


To Anneal a Heart

by stellasilvae



Category: Frozen (2013), X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Charles Xavier has a Ph.D in Adorable, Child Abuse, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Emotionally Constipated Erik, Frozen AU, M/M, Shaw Being a Manipulative Bastard
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-02-27
Packaged: 2018-01-10 04:40:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 8
Words: 13,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1155184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stellasilvae/pseuds/stellasilvae
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Erik is a young king trying to hide his curse; Shaw is a manipulative bastard; Charles just wants to connect with Erik; Logan wants to stop being swayed by a pair of big, blue eyes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I do not have a beta so any notes w/ grammar or spelling problems are appreciated. Happy reading!

_Erik._

The young prince grumbled and rolled over, burrowing into his pillow.

_Erik!_

_What, Charles?_ If a mind could grumble, his did.

 _I'm awake! Come on, let's go and play!_ The voice in his head was warm and sweet. Ever since he and Charles had discovered each other's tricks, Charles' mind reading turned out especially useful for sneaking around the castle.

"I'm trying to sleep," he muttered, turning on his belly. The snicker in his mind was answer enough. Charles always knew when he was playing opossum. Erik was able to count to four before a compact ball of energy hurtled onto the bed from the room next door.

 _ERIK! ERIK! Let's go and play!_ The smaller boy bounced up and down, making the springs in the mattress groan a little in distress. It was a good thing his eyes were closed or Charles might have seen the wicked gleam in his friend's eyes. Pushing a little of his own power into the mattress, Erik made the springs coil tighter, giving Charles a better bounce, his too-long, striped pajama pants flapping in the air. _YAY!_ The telepath cheered, sharing his joy with Erik. His eyes were bright, reflecting the moonlight that filtered in through Erik's windows. He forgot to pull the purple curtains before he got into bed.

"Okay. We can go and play," Erik agreed, rolling out of bed himself and throwing on his red dressing gown over his gray pajamas.

Charles' telepathy guided them through the halls, avoiding every servant and guard. It was easy to stay silent with barefeet on stone floors. The castle was never too full to begin with as Jakob and Edie preferred to be self-sufficient, and never entertained much. Edie was doing her best to instill into Erik that instead of fancy parties, it was better to meet his people where they were at. It was due to her really that Genosha was experiencing what many would consider its Golden Age. The arts were flourishing, even the poorest children were fed, and though scientific advancement had taken a blow with Xavier's death, it was still chugging along. At least that's what his tutor said. Some would attribute all of of Genosha's success to the Chief Advisor Shaw, but Erik knew his mama was an angel and his papa was a hero.

_Erik! You can think about polititcs anytime. Make us a fort!_

Erik raised an eyebrow. At eight, Erik considered himself quite the young man and tried to exhibit the manners his mother taught him. Charles was only six and had been living with them less than a year. Charles' father had died when working on a project for King Jakob and his mother had died (she had been sick, but Erik didn't miss the way the adults looked to the side when they said that) after remarrying someone who Charles was very scared of. It was Erik's job to take care of him now, and that meant teaching him mannners, too.

_Please!_

"Okay!"

The metal sheets Edie had placed in the ballroom just for Erik floated over, shaping themselves to Erik's whim. It was a mixture of nickel and tin; not especially strong, but perfect for a new metallokinetic. They had done this so many nights before, that it almost felt like the metal remembered what he wanted. His arms started to get tired from waving them around to direct the metal, but Charles' grin was worth every minute of it. Charles clambered up the metal stairs to the tower that he always requested; the smaller boy would say that it was his only chance to be taller than Erik.

_Erik, can you make it make reach the chandelier?_

_Charles. . . I could bring it to you._

_Please!_ The note of pleading came across perfectly in his mind.

Erik sighed and thought to him: _okay._ The metalbender thinned out the metal walls of the tower, making them stretch for the elegantly curved, bronze chandelier which was another good fifteen feet in the air. He slowed it down, feeling the metal starting to weaken.

_Erik! I'm almost there! I just want to touch it._

Erik snorted. _Like you wanted to touch the rabbit? It_ 's _not safe._

_I didn't know bunnies can bite. Erik!_

He could feel his friend encouraging him, nudging him with his own powers, and Erik frowned. That wasn't playing fair at all. Still, he didn't want to make Charles unhappy. He pushed at the tin a little harder, and up it went. Charles' tiny fingertips could brush the bottom of the chandelier.

"This is awesome," he shouted with voice and mind, jumping up and down.

It felt like Erik's world was crumpling. His heart almost stopped in his chest as he scrambled to strengthen the tower, but it was too late. The twenty foot tower wobbled, unbalanced by the boy's jostling; it lurched, and Charles' lurched with it. His scream echoed in the hall, and Erik's mind. Fear fueling his power, Erik tore a piece from the tower, edging it under Charles, trying so hard to catch his friend. It wasn't enough. The plate slid only under the smaller boy's head, barely impeding his fall. The first thud Erik could not comprehend, but the screaming stopped; the second was his friend's impact with the ground which did not seem to be real. The third was the metal buckling inward, and it finally broke through his stupor.

"CHARLES!" Erik ran and slid his knees under the telepath's head. "Charles, wake up." He brushed the blood and hair out of his friends eyes and wished they would open. "Charles." His voice broke, and he couldn't hold back the sobs as the blood spread.

"Erik?" His mother's voice made him look up. He saw her eyes dart from his collapsed fort to the two boys on the ground. "Oh, my boys!" She rushed over to them, her yellow dressing gown billowing behind her. Her eyes went wild with panic that Erik could identify with emphatically.

" _Liebling_ , what happened," his papa asked, close behind her.

"We were playing. And he fell. And I hit him. It was an accident! I swear," he babbled while trying not to jostle the telepath.

"Let me see him, _schatzi_." His mother knelt beside him, and, somewhat detached, he watched the yellow fabric slowly give way to red. She gently probed the downed boy's head, sliding her fingers through Charles' shaggy brown hair while her own brown braid brushed the spreading puddle. "Jakob. The ice spirit in the glenn. She might-"

Edie stopped, but Erik didn't notice. He curled his fingers around Charles wrist, terrified that his friend wouldn't wake up. That Charles would hate him for what he did to him. The second was almost more terrifying than the first. The prince couldn't comprehend a world without Charles, could barely remember what his life was like without the bundle of energy and fun and everything. The royal couple exchanged a look.

"Here, _liebling_. Let me see him." Jakob lifted his foster son into his arms. "We're going to get him help, but we must hurry, _schatzi_. Do you understand?"

Erik scrambled to his feet and sprinted for the door. "Let's go!"


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So I know I stretched Logan's powers a bit, but it is an AU so just go with it. :)

Genosha was a small, beautiful island in the Baltic sea. The castle was modeled on the medieval Europeans, a relic of those who first settled the island, looking for a place free from persecution and the Inquisition. It was built at the base of a mountain. Erik was learning in his strategy tutoring that it helped protect the castle from a rear attack, but there was also a secret he wasn't allowed to tell anyone. Behind the back garden wall, up a hill and past the stream is a glen. It is strangely circular and behind what could almost be considered an altar was a crystal at least twice Erik's height, white and shiny. The moonlight seemed to get caught and reflected back in a hundred different facets. He didn't know why they had run here, but Erik knew he trusted his parents more than anything.

King Jakob cradled Charles' tiny body, wrapped in his own robe, and stepped into the clearing. Edie and Erik were close behind, the boy unable to hide his tears. His best friend, his only friend, was hurt, and it was all his fault. The guilt stole his breath; it was like the time he jumped off the tree branch and landed on his chest. Charles had run over and helped him up and didn't even make fun of him when he cried. Maybe Charles would never be able to play with him again, maybe he wouldn't want to.

"Jakob," murmured the crystal silkily. "What brings you to my spring?"

Startled, Erik jumped back, and his mother placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. The crystal rippled, and a beautiful woman was in its place. The king did not shrink, standing tall and strong with the little boy in his arms.

"There was an accident-"

Erik didn't allow him to get any farther. He ran up to the strange woman -- magical, or a spirit or maybe just special like him -- and tugged on her white, sparkly dress. "It's my fault. I didn't mean to. Please! You have to fix Charles!"

Her pale blue eyes - like the sky in winter, not like the summer blue of Charles' - seemed like they could see into his soul. Her face was not kind, and there was something too sculpted about her hair for a boy accustomed to his soft and tough mama, but that didn't matter. Only Charles did. "Some would consider themselves cursed, little prince."

"I'll never make metal move again. Just fix him!" Just like that it was a promise. Erik had hurt his best friend. He couldn't keep playing with this power as if it was nothing. They never told anyone else, because they knew people would be frightened. Charles still had night terrors of the beatings from his stepbrother and stepfather when they learned what he could do. Some of those Erik could remember first hand after Charles started projecting. The kicking, the screaming: _Are you messing with my head, boy? You think you are so special_. Erik's parents were unique. They loved him anyway, but if Erik was going to be King, if he was going to stop himself from hurting Charles again, he would stop moving metal.

"Erik! You must be respectful. I'm sorry, milady. He is a bit impatient," Queen Edie chided. Still, she stroked her boy's red-brown hair.

"Like his mother," Jakob muttered, earning a scathing look from his wife. 

The strange woman failed to hide her smile at the antics of the family in spite of their fear. "His body must be healed first before I can heal his mind. Logan! Wolverine, I know you were listening."

A tall, burly man stepped out from behind one of the bolders. His clothing was rough, and Erik knows that he would fit right in with the lumberjacks and ice cutters that ventured down from the mountains on the high holidays. "Go fuck yourself, Em."

"Charming, Logan. You make such a lovely impression on their majesties."

Small green eyes darted from the blue bundle in his father's arms to the bickering adults. "Don't any of you care about Charles? He could be dying!"

"Of course we'll help your little friend. Logan has been a part of these hills almost since they began. He appears young due to the power in his blood. Logan will heal your friend's head. I will heal his mind." Her tone left no room for argument from any of them. Even the slightly terrifying man, moved to do her bidding. 

The prince straightened his spine. "Thank you," he said out loud, and Logan moved to the King's side. Erik did not watch as Logan slit his own wrist, dripping blood into Charles' wounds. Instead, he stared at the woman hard and concentrated, like when he and Charles first learned to share thoughts. _I_ _f you can fix his mind, you have to make him forget. He can't know that I can do these things. He can't even know what he can do._

Blonde eyebrows raised, and Emma stared at the child before her. _You would have me strip him of his gift? Why?_

Her mind left a chill where is brushed against his, and he ached for Charles' warmth that felt something like his mama's hugs, but different. Something that he was choosing to keep from Charles for a long time. Erik thought of Charles' migraines, of the nightmares he had when he picked up bad thoughts that he doesn't mean to, and most of all, Erik thought of how in and out of his mind Charles always was.  _If he goes into my mind and sees my curse, he will try to make me use it. He won't care how dangerous it is._ Charles never seemed to think of himself in Erik's opinion.  _He would just see how happy it makes me to feel the metal sing. You have to make him forget to keep him safe. At least until I am old enough to protect us both.  
_

_Well, I am not one to school you on the ethics of telepathy, little prince. But if I do this for you, you must promise to do something for me._

_What is it?_ He tried to inject all of the wariness he felt in his mental tone. 

Her chuckle echoed in his mind. _If you wish for me to lock his gift away, you must swear to me that when you are king that you will make Genosha a haven for all who are different, like you and I and even Logan._

Erik lifted his chin.  _I can do that._

 _There are limits to my powers. The walls I will set in his mind; they can be broken._ Erik nodded grimly. _Then our bargain is struck, King Erik of Genosha; do not forget it or you will find that healing minds is not the only thing I can do._ The mysterious woman turned her attention to Charles, and Erik waited with baited breath. Then she stepped away. "He will recover. Let the boy sleep for a time, and he will be fine." 

"Thank you, Spirit. Logan. We are in your debt," the King said, stepping back to be on par with his wife. Erik took the hint and went to stand with his family. 

"Forget it; I wasn't going to let the kid die," Logan scoffed and melted back into the forest. 

"Our Logan does not appreciate company, but he does have a soft spot for children. A safe walk home, your majesties." And she became crystal again. 

For a moment, they all just stood there in the dark. The moon had set behind the mountain and morning was nearly upon them. 

"Well, let's get you both cleaned up," Edie said quietly. 

Jakob passed Charles over to her. "I need to speak with Erik first, _schatz_ ; go on ahead." His wife stared at him for a moment, before she walked on, communicating silently in only that way a partner can. Sometimes, Erik was convinced his mother was telepathic, but Charles had told him for sure that she wasn't. Something that Charles wouldn't be able to do again. Guilt different from before nudged at his conscience. Sometimes his friend loved his telepathy, and Erik had taken that from him. His small fist clenched, and he thought, _to protect him._

"Papa, you don't have to say anything. I am not going to use my powers anymore. I don't want to hurt anyone." It was his pledge. 

"Erik-"

"No, papa, I'm going to finish. I want to be a good king, like you, and I can't risk hurting anyone, especially not Charles. So I'm going to stop." He had to make his father understand. Even with how supporting his parents had always been, Erik knew that they couldn't fully understand what he was giving up for the kingdom and his very best friend. 

Jakob sighed and stopped to hug his eight year old son, too old for his age. " _Liebling_ , I have never once worried about the future of Genosha, knowing that you will be King. You don't have to hide your gift to be a good king. If you do not want to use it, that's fine. Just learn to control it. Charles is going to be alright. You two have all the time in the world to learn and grow. Your mother and I are here for you, Erik. Always." 

Erik clung to his father. "I love you, Papa."

"I love you, too." 


	3. Chapter 3

“Erik! Erik! Come out and play,” Charles urged, pressing full body to the door connecting their rooms. “You’ve been in there forever.”

“I’m studying, Charles,” the prince retorted, bending his metal bedframe back into place. His nightmare last night – Charles had died this time – had made him twist it all out of shape

"You've been in there for aaaaages," he whined, banging his head against the door softly. "We could study together, Erik. I like to read. Please!"

Erik steeled himself and, for the first time since meeting Charles, resisted his plea. "Go away, Charles." 

"You never want to play. Don't you like me anymore?" There was a note of despair in his tone. His mother, never Mama like Erik's, ignored him, his stepfather and stepbrother hated him - why again? It didn't matter, they did - and there weren't any other kids around. Erik was his friend; he had to like him. 

The prince's brow furrowed. This was it. If he was going to protect Charles, he had to do this. "Why would I want to play with a whiny brat like you? I'm going to be King. I have more important things to do." It took everything in him to be derisive and dismissive. 

"Erik. Erik, no. You don't mean it," the younger boy pleaded. 

"Go away." 

"Okay. Bye," Charles murmured.

Desolate, he shuffled away to hide himself in his favorite library. The dark wood, deep armchairs, and patterned rugs reminded him of his father's library and a time when he could sit in his lap and be taught how to read. In the dark, he curled up in a red velvet chair, sniffling over _A Treatise on the Human Body_. 

"Is there someone crying in here?" A motherly voice called. "Oh, Charles, _liebling_ , what's wrong?" Queen Edith came and sat down beside him, easily maneuvering his little body so he was snuggled on her lap. Gentle fingers brushed the tears off of his cheek. 

"Erik doesn't like me anymore," he snuffled, burrowing his head into her arm. 

"Oh, my little one, pay no mind to him. He is just going through a phase.  Everyone is entitled to a little nonsense now and then," she told him warmly, stroking his hair. The touch starved boy leaned in almost like a cat. Her heart broke a little, and once again she thanked G-d for sending him to her family. 

"It's not fair." 

Edie sighed; her boys were both so bright they decided to start their teenage years earlier it seemed. "He'll learn some sense soon, or I'll knock it into him," she promised. "For now, give him a little space and why don't you read aloud to me." 

He licked his lips and swallow hard. "Okay." 

 

Six weeks later, Edie knocked on her son's door, thinking of the sad-eyed child sulking in the library. 

"For the last time, go away, Charles!" 

"That can't be my son in there. My son wouldn't use such a tone on his enemies let alone his friends," Edie retorted with a frown. 

"Mama." 

She had to suppress a smile when she heard him scramble for the door. Instead, she kept a scolding facade when he faced her. "Sit down, young man." When he hesitated, she said, "March!"

"Yes, Mama."

He turned tail and took a seat in one of the armchairs by his fireplace. Edie refused to be swayed by the way his feet didn't quite touch the floor. "There is a boy in the library who is very upset. You must know how upset I am when either of my boys are upset, and how much worse it is when they both are." 

Guilty eyes flickered up to her and then down again. 

"This needs to stop, Erik. You were both happier when you played and learned together."

"I could hurt him."

" _Schatzi_ , everyone has the potential to be dangerous. He could hurt you. Your gift is not something to be feared, but celebrated. Charles will love this part of you, or I would be very surprised," she told him, smile soft. 

"Mama, sometimes I wake up and my bedposts are wrapped around me or the fire-pokers are floating above my head. When Charles and I argued through the door, I melted the doorknob. I'm dangerous!" His voice rose as he spoke until he was shouting. He waved his hands for emphasis at the end and all of the nails holding his mother's chair together flew apart. She yelped in a truly undignified way as it collapsed beneath her. 

"No! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to!" He dove down beside her. 

Edie sighed, gathering her distressed child into her arms. "I'm fine, Erik, _schatzi_ , I'm not hurt. It was an accident," she soothed him, running her hand up and down his back. 

"I might have really hurt you." 

"Oh, Erik, you never could, not really. Maybe you just need someone to teach you. Your father and I have heard that in some countries, the truly gifted are more common. Maybe we can find you a teacher."

"You think that'll help?"

The hope on her little boy's face hit her hard. There on the floor sitting on a throne of a ruined chair, Edie knew that she had to find someone to help her son before he closed himself off permanently. "Of course, baby, of course." 

 


	4. Chapter 4

"You don't have to go," Erik murmured, clinging to his mother's middle.

"We'll be back in time for your birthday, _schatzi_ , don't worry. Shaw will make a fine regent while we are gone, and we will come back with a new tutor for you," Edie reassured him.

"Can't you just send someone? Why do you both have to go?"

"Silly Erik, as if I would let your father have an adventure without me. Besides, our boys' education is too precious to leave to just anyone. We'll make new friends, set up a treaty, and be back before you know it." She brushed a kiss on his forehead and released him, pulling her foster son into her arms for a hug. "Be good, Charles, keep an eye on Erik for me, would you, _liebling_?"

The smaller boy's expression was almost worshipful. "Of course. Safe travels."

"Thank you, Charles. We love you both," King Jakob said solemly, running a hand over his son's head before stepping into the carriage. It would take them to the iron ship, a modern marvel that ran on steam. Erik had been dying to see it, but too worried that he would hurt it in some way.

"Goodbye!" shouted Charles, waving as they sped off. Erik just stood there until in the far off distance the unique song of tons of iron faded as the night came on.

 

The King and Queen were not back in Genosha for Erik's ninth birthday. He spent it in the highest room of the castle that faced the shore, doing his best to reach out for the iron he knew had to be speeding his way. His parents had promised. They had left because of him and promised to come back for his birthday. They were just running late. It wasn't a big deal. They would be home soon. He felt more than saw Charles creep into the room behind him. He didn't say anything, but he found himself wishing for the brush of Charles' mind against his. Charles climbed up onto the window seat and just sat beside him, a silent, comforting presence. They stayed there until the dawn of the next day.

 

"Prince Erik."

Erik looked up from where he was leaning over the tome on his desk to see Regent Sebastian Shaw at his door. "Regent?"

"My boy, sit down with me," the man instructed, sitting down on what Erik would always think of as his mother's chair.

Some small part of Erik rebelled against the command, but he pushed it aside. Shaw was in charge at least until his Mama and Papa came back. He sat down, doing his best to look like an adult. "What is it?"

"It is their Majesties, Erik." Shaw's voice was grave, but there was something deeper that Erik couldn't understand. "Yesterday, their Majesties' ship, it was nearly to our harbor when a part of the hull just tore away. The ship sank so quickly, Erik, there wasn't a chance to save them. I'm sorry, Son, but your parents have drowned."

The nine year old stared at Shaw, numb with shock. "They are dead? No, they aren't dead! Mama promised!"

"I'm sorry, my boy, but it was almost like someone ripped off the metal plating keeping them afloat. You wouldn't know anything about that, would you, Prince Erik?"

There was enough insinuation in his tone to make Erik's heart turn to cold steel. He knew. Shaw knew. His parent's were dead, and Shaw knew, and it was his fault because he was the reason his parents left. And maybe, just maybe when he was stretching for them, he did something that he didn't mean to. Maybe he-he did hurt the metal plating. Maybe he did make their ship sink. Maybe he killed them not just by making them go, but by _killing_ them. He couldn't breathe. The room was spinning, and Erik couldn't breathe.

And then his face was pressed to Shaw's chest, and he breathed in the scent of his hair oil, and the tears fell. "I- I didn't mean to. I didn't. Please, they can't be dead. They can't, please," he sobbed, choking on air.

"I know you didn't mean to. It is unfortunate what happened to their Majesties, Erik, but I can help you. I can help you make sure that this never happens again. Do you understand?"

He sniffled. "Why?"

"Genosha is important to me, my boy, and you are important to Genosha. But if you are going to let me help you, I need all of your focus. Is that understood?" The regent was treading the line between forceful and consoling.

"Yes."

"Yes?" Erik swiped his nose with his wrist, suddenly uncomfortable on Shaw's lap.

"Yes, sir."

"Good boy."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fair warning, I am going to up the rating and add a trigger warning for child abuse. It wasn't planned, but Shaw really is a bastard. I swear to you that there will be no sexual abuse, but there will be psychological, verbal and just a little physical. It should only last a chapter or two, so if this is a trigger for you, but you want to finish the story, you should have that opportunity. I'll put a note in the front of the chapter when the heavy triggers are over. Thank you for reading!


	5. Chapter 5

It was chilly and windy the day of their Majesties’ funeral. Charles shivered in his black woolen suit and tried not to cry. The sun was shining, which seemed almost a travesty to the young boy. The whole world should be upset, and something seemed off that he couldn’t feel it. It wasn’t right. Across the burial mounds, Charles could see his very best friend in the whole world. Not once in the three days since they found out, had Erik said one word to him. Charles had been informed when Regent Shaw told the staff. If a six-year old cared about that sort of thing, Charles might have been insulted. Queen Edie and King Jakob had treated him like a second son, but really Charles wouldn’t care if they ignored him forever if they came back and made Erik smile again. 

Instead, Prince Erik’s face was still and cold, eyes fixed on the distant horizon. The solemn funeral dirge was like a heavy weight in the air. Charles could only hope that it would lift soon. The King and Queen thought Erik’s happiness was too important for him to feel that way too long, but the small boy didn’t think that Erik would see it that way. When the religious portion of the service was over, Shaw stepped past Erik to speak. 

“My dear friends, all of Genosha weeps today for our deceased monarchs. Somehow, we must carry on. It is my deepest honor to guide our dear prince through adulthood, teaching him what it means to govern Genosha in a fair and honorable way. We will never forget all that our beloved King and Queen have done for us, and I will do all in my power to uphold their legacy and all that makes Genosha great.” 

Shaw stood firm and immovable, practically blocking Erik with his body from the crowd. It struck Charles as off, but he wasn't sure why. He had some vague memory of Shaw and believing that he hated Erik, but for the life of him, Charles did not know why. More than that, while everyone else looked like they found the speech moving and uplifting, it made Charles feel nauseous. This was not a speech celebrating their majesties' lives, but celebrating a new era. Watching Erik, Charles wasn't entirely sure that he wanted a new era at all. 

  
  


**Dominance and Intimidation**

Erik woke to a pounding on his door. He had tossed and turned all night, because the nightmares kept coming back. His mother in the water, reaching out for him. His father trying to push her to a piece of debris, only to loose strength and sink. Over and over again. Erik had never seen anyone drown before, but he could imagine the panic. Worse, the horror when they realized their son was the one that doomed them. In his nightmares, it was never “if” only “when.” Blearily, he rolled out of bed and staggered to the door. 

“Abed at this hour?” Shaw stood on the other side, dressed in his blue Regent robes. “Erik, from this point on, you will be up at dawn. I will have no slacking from you, my boy. If I am going to teach you how to be a king in only nine years and keep you from destroying us all with your metal powers, I must have your attention constantly. Do you understand me, boy?”

“Yes, sir,” answered Erik, swallowing hard. 

“Good boy. Now get on your robes. We have work to do.” 

When the door shut, Erik scrambled to put on his ceremonial red and purple robes. Charles always thought they were silly, but Erik secretly loved them. He always felt confident in them. They did not do much to bolster him today, however. When he was somewhat respectable, Erik hurried outside to find Shaw waiting. 

“Seven minutes, Erik. You are not to keep me waiting, my boy, not for seven minutes or for seven seconds. My work is too important.” His pale eyes looked Erik up and down. “I guess you will have to do. Come on. We must first work on that power of yours, then we will talk politics this afternoon. If you behave very well, I will let you sit in on a council session tomorrow.” 

Erik nodded. Shaw fixed him with a stare. 

“Yes, sir.”

Shaw continued to wait. 

Erik suddenly understood. “Thank you, sir.” 

The regent nodded sharply, turned on his heel and strode off. He failed to notice the brunette child slowly walking in their direction and went right past him, but Erik saw. Charles' eyes lit up, a painful sort of hope, that Erik was out of his room. It hurt to see, and Erik turned his head away and fixed his own eyes on Shaw's hem. He was still dangerous; Charles was safer if they left each other alone. Erik did not see the bitter disappointment as Charles dropped the book he was hoping they would read together and fled to his library. 

  
  


**Humiliation and Blame**

“I can't!”

“You can, and you will. The first step to mastering your power is using it on command. Now. Move. The. Coin.” 

“I could hurt someone!”

Shaw's features softened. “My boy, you couldn't hurt anyone. You are weak, helpless really. The only person you could possibly hurt is someone more helpless than yourself, and, trust me, child, those are few and far between. If the coin is too difficult, my boy, just tell me so. You do not have to lie to me. I can see everything.” His tone was gentle but hard, velvet covered steel. 

Erik swallowed hard. “I'm not. I can do it.” The coin wobbled, but he lifted it in the air with only his power. 

“There now, that wasn't so hard. My silly, little boy is fortunate to have me to encourage him, isn't he?”

“I'm almost ten. I am not a little boy anymore,” the prince protested. 

“Are you sassing me, Erik?” The velvet was gone, leaving only the steel. 

“No, sir! I just-”

“You will not speak to me in that tone, Erik. You must respect your betters. Come here.” The man pointed to the spot directly in front of him. 

Erik shook his head; he didn't know why he was so afraid all of a sudden. “I'm sorry!”

“Two spells of disobedience in one day. What a shame, Erik. You know a king must give orders, a future one should know the value of following them. Come here. I will not ask you again,” he said firmly, lounging in the chair as if it were a throne. Shaw had become rather fond of this library, the seclusion perfect for his purposes. The servants barely remembered to come and dust and never came at mid-day. 

Reluctantly, Erik came closer to Shaw.

“I never took you for a coward, Erik. Look how timid you are.”

The prince lifted up his chin, straightened his shoulders, and took another step forward. Shaw seized the opportunity and grabbed his wrist, pulling the prince until he was half-bent over Shaw's lap. 

“When you act like a bratty child, Erik, I will punish you like a brat. Now hold still.” He pushed the robe up, until Erik's pants were visible. A quick yank, and Erik's bottom was bared. 

“What? No, what are you doing?” Erik wriggled, trying to get away. The firm smack to his rear made him still with shock. 

“You will be spanked like any brat deserves. Be still, my boy, and take it like a man!” Nineteen spanks followed in quick succession, turning his bottom red and bringing tears to his eyes. Shaw quickly righted him, but neglected to right his clothing. “Now you know that I will not tolerate that behavior. If you didn't act this way, I would not have to do this. Are those tears, Erik? Is my manly, almost ten year old crying? Pull yourself together, boy.” 

Erik sniffled and pulled his pants back up. “I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again,” he promised. 

A little gasp and shuffle behind him made him turn. Through a crack in the door, Erik saw a sliver of Charles face, and his shame was complete. And then Charles disappeared. 

Shaw's face was smug. “I know it won't. Now move the coin again.” 

  
  


**Isolation**

“Erik-” 

“Go away, Charles.” 

“What he is doing, it isn't right.”

“Leave it alone.”

“He isn't your papa; he's not allowed to spank you.”

“Leave me alone.”

“I don't trust him.”

“Shaw is a great man. He is teaching me how to be a good king.”

“He is mean!”

“You don't understand. You're just a baby!”

“I am not! Take that back!”

“I won't! You are little, and you don't know what it is like to have both your parents dead and the whole country on your- . . . Charles, I'm sorry, I didn't mean-”

“You did. If you want me to go, I'll go!” 

  
  


“It's for the best, my boy. Little friends like that will only be in the way when you are king.” 


	6. Chapter 6

**Abuse**

Fifteen years old. Erik’s fifteenth birthday was yesterday. Practically a man, and he had disgraced himself. Worse, he had shamed Shaw. Erik was a reflection on all Shaw was and was teaching him. It was his own fault. He was stupid, and clumsy and weak. It was better that Shaw point out his failings and teach him now than for Erik to ruin the whole of Genosha one day. Maybe spilling a glass of wine on one ambassador wasn’t the end of the world to some people, but it could mean political disaster when you are King. Someone bumping into him was no excuse. Kings did not make excuses.

Alone, Erik waits in the library. He hated this room. He had loved it once, when his sweet mother would cuddle with him and read stories aloud. But she was long dead now, and this was Shaw’s place. If there was something that Erik could be grateful for, it was that Shaw punished him alone and away from the staff. There was no one else to witness his shame. Shaw made sure Erik knew how fortunate he was that the Regent was willing to keep his frequent failings and punishments quiet. If the people lost faith in their Crown Prince, it might spell the end of Genosha’s stability. No, Shaw was a good teacher, making sure the lessons stuck, but that Erik could carry on with his duties.

What few duties he had. He was too young and untried for much yet.

And he couldn’t even make small talk with a visiting dignitary.

Pathetic.

Coolly, Erik stripped to the waist, neatly laying aside his robe, vest and shirt. He stretched, feeling skin pull around the old welts. If he behaved better, he would not have to worry about layering wound on wound and pain on pain. He would get better. He would be a good King and do honor to his parent’s memory.

“Oh my boy, what a terrible mistake you have made. What do you have to say for yourself?”

Erik knew better than to make excuses. That had been a difficult lesson to learn, and for a time he almost fancied Charles’ voice in his head supplying him with every argument.  As guilty as he sometimes felt for urging the Ice Spirit lock to his friend’s gift away, Erik had never expected to actively miss the presence in his head. Better this way though; Charles would never understand why he needed to be punished so furiously and frequently. Charles always thought the best of him.

Shaw saw what he really was.

“I have no excuse. I was careless, and I beg your forgiveness,” his voice broke, hinting at the deepness that would come with maturity. Still, he stood straight and solemn, almost impassive.

It infuriated Shaw. The Prince had no right to be so calm; he would break the façade until the boy feared him as he should. “I am very disappointed in you, my boy. If you cannot even do so simple a thing as hold a conversation, I really do fear what our beloved land will come to. Well, I refuse to allow us to have an incompetent King. You will learn this lesson even if it should take all night. Put your hands on the desk. Come on, brace yourself, and if I hear one sound from you, I will start over again.”

In response, Erik turned and half-bowed over the desk. He placed his feet so they were a shoulder-width apart; he had learned from experience that any variation often made him  fall over, and Shaw would not stop just because he was on the ground. Palms down, he rested his weight on his hands and tried not to tense. It was always worse when he tensed.

The first crack through the air always made him flinch, but that stroke never touched him. It was Shaw’s way of preparing him. The metallokinetic tried to remind himself that he did not have to give a warning; it was a kindness. The line of fire that was the first actual lick of the lash never came when he expected it. It could be seconds or minutes after the warning. Shaw always said that he had to be prepared for the unexpected, and that included pain. There was never a rhyme or rhythm to the beatings. Over the last three years, since spanking clearly had stopped being effective, Erik had built up a small immunity. His back had toughened, and Shaw rarely gave attention to anywhere else. It would not do for any of the servants to notice and gossip about the young royal’s disgrace. The first ten or so stung, but it was nothing he couldn’t bear. Erik stayed stoic, silent, blinking back tears and counting the grains in the mahogany desk. It was a small victory that the metal did not move to him anymore. Once it would hover over his head, drawn to his pain.

It was deeply unsatisfying for the Regent. The boy was too much like his father for his own good. Shaw twitched the whip, almost caressing one of the old welts, laying another on the sensitive, healing skin. The blow earned him a hiss. Better, but not perfect. Shaw began to lay them on one another, enjoying the way the red X’s stood out on the pale skin. It wasn’t long before soft, muffled cries met his ears.

“Are those sounds, Erik? You can’t even take a small punishment. How pathetic. Well, you know I always keep my promises.” The regent redoubled his efforts, not stopping when blood started to pool in the small of Erik’s back.

Pathetic. Weak. Incompetent. He deserved this. He deserved this and a lot worse. He wasn’t worthy of friends, of Shaw’s mentorship, and certainly not the crown. But it was his, and he would take whatever Shaw would give him to become worthy. And if he sometimes ached for his mother’s arms and his father’s reassurances, for Charles’ blind hero worship . . .  Well, he would just have to put away childish things. They were dead. Even the hero worship had vanished. His former friend had taken to playing in the village, not that anyone else noticed. Charles was thirteen now, probably doing whatever it was normal children did, flirting, teasing, pulling pranks.

Erik could feel the blood weeping from his weal, but it didn’t seem to matter anymore. He was floating, and the pain was far away. For just a moment, he allowed himself to imagine what it would be like to have the run of the village with Charles by his side. Laughing, eating fruit-filled breads, racing down the streets. Erik had longer legs, but Charles had always been tricky and quick. Maybe in that world, their powers wouldn’t be something to hide, but just a part of who they are. When he was King, he and Shaw would implement all sorts of laws, protecting the gifted, punishing those who dare to mock or hurt them. Genosha would be the haven that the Ice Spirit made him promise it would be.

His train of thought derailed, and the world went gray.

 

**Guilt**

Shaw stared at the slender body on the floor with not a little disgust. The boy passed out, and got blood on the floor. It wasn’t the first time, the second or even the third. Oh, the first time had been sweet after that little wine incident. Seeing the arrogant child reduced to a huddled mass on the floor. He had removed the rug in the library for just this reason. Harder to fall on, easier to clean. And so satisfying to see the red puddle. But it was getting harder and harder to hide the winces when Prince Erik thought no one was looking. Every now and then, the crimson of his robes would become a shade darker.

It was becoming dangerous to keep doing this. But the boy was so malleable. Shaw knew that with the right pushes over the next couple of years, Erik would be his little puppet on the throne. Then he would be able to make the changes that the council has been delaying or vetoing. A strong King of royal blood with the face of his father; the council would not be able to resist bowing to his decrees. Shaw’s decrees. Perhaps he was pushing too hard.

“I’m sorry, my boy; I do not want to punish you so much or so hard. If only you would behave,” he whispers to the semi-conscious prince.

 

**Excuses**

It was Charles’ fourteenth birthday. His birthdays were always hardest for Erik to ignore, and he wasn’t sure whether Charles’ new desire to be always out of the castle made it harder or easier. He knew it was irrational, but he was jealous of those new friends of his. It was definitely harder when he saw their fun in person.

Shaw rode his white stallion at the head of the line, head high and barely paying attention to any of the commoners. That hadn’t been Erik’s parents’ way, but he was starting to think that maybe it had to be his. Still, the chestnut gelding was so placid – no endangering the Prince – that it was easy to let his mind wander.

Charles tumbled out of the apothecary’s, laughing with bright eyes and red lips. He was the picture of youthful exuberance as Alex, the blacksmith’s son, Sean who was the miller’s boy, and the apothecary’s apprentice, Hank, followed close behind. All four boys were lively and drew the eye, but Erik’s attention was solely focused on the young man with milk-pale skin and mischief written all over his face. He couldn’t remember the last time Charles’ seemed so happy. Well, in fact he could, but it was the second darkest day of his life, and he tried not to.

“Charles.”

“Erik,” the boy responded, straightening. He licked his lips, capturing Erik’s focus. The joy was practically wiped off of his face, and Erik had to push aside his bitter disappointment. He didn’t deserve the smiles or shared jokes anyway. Not anymore and maybe not ever again.

Hank hissed, “Charles! He’s the prince.” Erik flicked his eyes to the gangly young man, disapproving of the hand he had on Charles’ shoulder. They were too close. He realized his mistake and dropped his hand quickly.

“Of course. Prince Erik, what can your humble servants do for you since you deign to cast your attention upon us?” The sharp words, however soft-spoken, earned looks of disbelief from the other three boys and admiration from the blacksmith’s son.

Erik can only shake his head. “Nothing. Happy birthday, Charles.”

Charles pitched his voice so Erik could only just make out the words as he rides away. “There is never anything.”

Shaw heard the whole thing; of course, he did. And when he speaks, Erik wants to scream, but he doesn’t and he can’t. Genosha is more important.

“I know this is hard, Erik, but you are going to be  King. You are going to be a strong King, the King that Genosha needs. And if you are slow to learn, if it means punishments and giving up friendships, know that you are doing what your parents would want for the good of Genosha.”

 

**Honeymoon**

“Sometimes, when you get it, Erik, I know that you will a good King.”

 

**Planning**

Erik had almost reached manhood. Shaw had successfully separated him from everyone that would interfere with his influence. The boy relied on his advice, his experiences. His whole world view from the time he was nine years old had been shaped to the Regent’s specifications. But it wasn’t quite enough. He had to do something to concrete his power in the boy’s mind. Something at the coronation. Make the boy see just how much he needed his Regent, his Chief Advisor.

 

**Set-up**

Shaw planned it well. Volatile visiting dignitaries, decorations of gold, silver, and bronze, and one little friend that had hung around for far too long. By the end of the day, Erik and Genosha would be his for as long as he deigned to keep them. It was a barrel of gun powder, and he held the flame.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here is the next installment. Sorry, it took so long, but I had a hard time getting it right. I ended up writing the middle first and working outward. Happy reading!

Later, Erik would never remember much of the coronation itself. His subjects filled the rows of chairs in the temple, a place that Erik hadn't been in for years. Genosha itself was not a very religious country, sticking true to its roots of a place where people could come without fear of persecution. Erik was well aware he was probably the only Jewish monarch in Europe, let alone the northern seas. Not that he had paid that much attention to the traditions; he had been far too busy, and after the first couple years his Rabbi stopped asking him to light the candles and speak to those who would attend temple on the high holidays. Standing before everyone, the Torah at his back, Erik would only remember feeling a bit of guilt. He went through the motions, spoke someone else's words and renewed his pledge to serve Genosha. Things had to be different now that he could advocate for his people properly, convincing other countries to take them seriously and to treat them fairly.

Erik knelt, allowing Shaw to place the crown on his head and concentrated on containing his power that wanted to reach out and carress the smooth gold circle on his brow. The ruby and twin amethysts were blank to his power, and he tried to concentrate on them instead. It would be rather hard to explain if the crown suddenly crumpled or started floating. He needed to think of something else.

Charles.

The boy, young man now really, was sitting in the front row. After everything that had happened, Charles was still in the front row. He would never understand why Erik had to focus on things other than their friendship, but the monarch was in control, mostly, and Shaw would help him. Surely a king could have one friend. Charles' red lips curved up just slightly, and he worried the lower with his teeth. The warmth that started in Erik's groin was a distraction, but not the one he had in mind. How many people had Charles kissed? Slept and woke with? The quick sting of jealousy broke his curse free, and he could feel the barest hint of the gold rising. He slammed the door on those thoughts before it could get worse.

"Lords, Ladies, people of Genosha, let me be the first to introduce you to King Erik of Genosha. Long live the King," Shaw crowed as Erik rose. Standing close by his side, he could whisper, "Careful, my boy. Stay close, and I will make sure you get through this with no incidents."

Erik swallowed and nodded minutely while his people cheered. Everyone waited while Shaw herded him out first and straight into the ballroom. It was a bit more lavish than Erik was expecting with tapestries with real gold and silver worked into the thread, copper candlesticks, hammered silver platters being passed by servants, the bronze chandelier that dripped with crystals, and, of course, the newly gold-plated throne on a dais at the far end of the room. It had been a present for Erik's birthday, and he hadn't had the heart or the courage to tell Shaw that it was ostentatious and a bit hideous. Erik much preferred iron, to gold, it was stronger and much denser, but that was certainly not a suitable metal for a king to surround himself with. He was just being influenced by his curse. Again.

The crowd trickled in, coming close and waiting for him. To do something. What were they waiting for? Erik tried not to scowl and stared back at them. This hadn't exactly been part of his training.

Shaw stepped up to the dais next to him. "Let the dancing begin!" And he drew Erik back to the throne. "Sit, my boy, you look like you are about to drop. I would think that an adult such as yourself wouldn't be frozen with stagefright."

"It's not-"

"Erik!" Charles shouted, coming forward. His three little friends were trailing him, but Erik only had eyes for the petite man whose shoulders suprisingly filled out his tunic very well.

Shaw cleared his throat.

Charles raised an eyebrow, but bowed sharply. "Your majesty, I mean, of course."

"Charles, I- It's good to see you," Erik managed. His gaze flickered from the couples waltzing to the young man standing just off the dais. He rose abruptly. "Would you care to dance?" He had the distinct pleasure of rendering Charles speechless, and chuckled when his mouth just moved soundlessly for a moment.

"Of-of course!" He offered his hand to the King, and the floor quieted as the pair moved to the center of the floor.

"They stopped," Erik murmured, uncomfortable with being in the spotlight quite literally.

"You are the king, you know," Charles responded, putting a hand on Erik's narrow waist and changing his grip around his hand. Erik was taller and of higher social standing, but there was no question who was leading the dance. Erik didn't terribly mind, as his lessons in dancing had been perfunctory at best, and it meant that a warm hand curled around the small of his back when Erik stepped closer.

"That is the rumor," he replied, feeling not a little relief as the others started dancing again.

"You must have a lot of plans, now that the date has finally come."

Erik hummed non-commitedly, caught by those blue eyes, by the smooth and pale skin, by his scent, like old books and tea and the sun. He moved a little closer, iron to Charles' lodestone, and was mesmerized by the soft curve of Charles' neck. He wanted to press his lips just -

Charles cleared his throat, a little uncomfortable. He wanted this; he had been attracted to Erik for a long time, but not in the middle of the ballroom and not on the day of Erik's coronation. He scrambled for something, anything to say. "Jakob and Edie would be so proud of you, Erik, and how much you care about Genosha." He felt the king stiffen in his arms and immediately regretted it.

They wouldn't. They would see how very difficult and troublesome he was, how much he had put faithful Shaw through. His self-hatred made his words and voice sharper than he intended. "How would you know? You barely knew them." Erik released Charles and stepped back out of his reach. "I should meet the dignitaries. Please, feel free to find another partner." Erik turned away and ascended his dais once more.

"Erik-" Charles started to follow, but was stopped by a firm hand on his shoulder.

"Charlie! It's been an age. Dance with me." The man forcibly turned Charles around and locked a thick arm around Charles' middle until he was face to face with his stepbrother.

"Cain." Memories of an angry child pushing him down the stairs or throwing rocks at his pony so it threw him flooded Charles. He struggled in the other's grasp, but Cain was easily twice his width and weight and had a decent amount of height on top of that as well. The punishing hand on his and the fingers digging bruisingly into his side were clearly meant to keep him in place. Cain dragged him in an imperfect circle, uncaring if he stepped on Charles' feet. "Let me go, Cain. I have nothing to say to you."

"After all these years! Nothing to say to your step-brother. Didn't you miss me, Charlie?" He leered, invading Charles' personal space in a way that was much less welcome than what had happened immediately prior. As if he could read his thoughts, Cain mumured, "You sure did get pretty, Charlie. I bet the king is enjoying that, isn't he? You a right little whore for him?"

Charles turned away as much as he was able, repulsed. "As ignorant as ever. Release me, Cain, or I will call the guards."

"Would they come rescue the king's fucktoy? You think you are so smart. Always using those big words, saying things you didn't have no business of knowing. But you are pretty, Charlie. When the king's tired of you, you could come to me. I'll take good care of you." His stepbrother pulled Charles closer until he could feel a hardness against his thigh.

"You disgust me. You are a bully, Cain, and I have seen how your father has run my father's business into the ground without making any scientific advancements. You are no better. Moreover, what I do with my life is none of your business, but I would speak respectfully of the king if I were you," he responded, pulling away as much as possible.

"You're a disrespectful little shit, Charlie boy. Everyone knows that you are paying for your little castle stay by spreading your legs-"  


 

Erik turned when he reached the dais to survey his hall. At the very least, few people seemed to notice the spat with Charles. It helped that Charles had started dancing with someone immediately after, although it made his back tense. The king couldn't control his scowl at the giant pulling Charles around the dance floor. Charles didn't even seem to be enjoying it which gave Erik a petty little pleasure. Shaw was off somewhere talking with some important people, and Erik was left to watch as Charles was practically groped in the middle of the floor. His anger, always a slow burn in the back of his mind, surged when Charles began to struggle in earnest. The chandelier began to creek, swinging with Erik's gait as he stormed back to the center of the hall in time to catch the end of the exchange. He cut Cain off.

"How dare you. You have no right to speak to Charles this way. Get your hands off him," Erik said, with a deadly softness. The crowd quieted, watching the exchange. No one but Shaw noticed the way the chandelier shuddered in its mooring.

Cain didn't move, but wiped the leer off his face. "Y'r majesty, is it a crime to dance now or is it just that it's your little toy that I'm playing with. King doesn't like to share you, does he, Charlie boy?"

Charles' eyes darted between the two men with a sick feeling in his stomach. "Listen to him, Cain, or this will go very badly for you." No one had ever claimed that Cain was intelligent. His stepbrother pressed his face into Charles' hair and inhaled deeply, grinding his erection into Charles' thigh. Aparrently, he got off on being watched and holding someone against their will. For a moment, Charles almost wished he could vomit just to get the other man to back off.

The light flickered, and several people looked up to see the chandelier jerking wildly with candles sputtering. Slowly, the crowd backed away only for the most observant to see the tapestries shaking as if they were in the midst of an earthquake. Erik's eyes reminded Charles of a thunderstorm.

"Release him." Cain hesitated, and that was the limit of Erik's control. With a shriek, the metal chain holding the monstrous light snapped. For a moment, there was only chaos as people scrambled back. Stupid Cain finally caught on, throwing Charles at the king to dive out of the way. Briefly disoriented, Charles could only register that Erik had caught him and was holding him tightly to his chest as the world seemed to crash around them.

"Charles!" he heard Hank shout from somewhere far away as the metal squealed around them.

Erik didn't think; he couldn't think, only react as he pushed the mass of bronze around him, shielding Charles from the hot wax and the shattering crystal with his body. With a groan, the metal settled and silence rang in the hall. This was it, Erik realized, clutching his old friend to his chest. This was the beginning of the end. Everyone would know. It was too late, and he could have killed innocent people. He almost killed Charles.

Again.

Gathering what was left of his willpower, the king drew Charles out of the wreckage as the metal parted around him like the sea did for Moses.  The whispers started, and Erik released Charles as if the other man had scalded him. The metal in the hall began to vibrate, people turning terrified eyes onto the candelabras, their very jewelry. He had to leave. This could not continue. Shaw would- It didn't bear thinking about. Erik backed away, hesitant to show these unpredictable people his vulnerable side. Perhaps if he was quick, Shaw would still be able to persuade the council to enact laws protecting those who were different, especially if they were in control. Like he wasn't.

“Erik, listen to me. It doesn’t have to be this way!” Charles reached out.

It seemed like he was always reaching out. Erik was just never allowed to respond. Still wasn't. He had tried, and this was his punishment.

“You don’t have to hide anymore.” The younger man pushed aside the thoughts of the years he had been cut off. They could talk about it later. They would talk about it later, after everyone calmed down.

“Get away from me, Charles! I will hurt you,” The king warned, eyes wary. He could feel the stares of everyone in the hall. All of the powerful in his kingdom, and pretty much the entire village surrounding his castle, they were judging him, terrified of him. Why shouldn’t they be? He was a monster, and he had to leave now. Why weren't they moving out of his way?

Bronze shards of the chandelier tore themselves from the bits of crystal and wax, responding to his turmoil. They circled him, only encouraged by the horrified whispers and staring eyes. Shaw’s grave face was the only thing in focus for an agonizing moment, and then he heard it.

“Wasn’t the metal from their majesties’ ship torn off?”

Erik didn’t know where it came from, but it didn’t matter because it grew.

“May they rest in peace!”

“Killed by their own son!”

“He was just a child.”

“Clearly, he can’t control it.”

“Dangerous.”

“Too dangerous to be King.”

“Too dangerous to live!”

The words were ambushing him, and Erik felt like he was drowning.

“Enough,” Charles tried to shout too late.

The largest gentlemen were crowding forward while the guards were frozen in indecision at least for a moment. They had sworn to protect their King, but were they still obligated to protect him when he was clearly the threat? Erik didn’t think so. He moved away slowly, pulling more metal from the jewelry that adorned his court. Jewels sprinkled the cobblestones like rain.  The red and purple banners, the ornamental tapestries slid to the ground as their metal fastenings abandoned them to join the throng orbiting Erik.

“My friends, fellow Genoshans, your patience please! Erik is young and untrained, but think of his potential. He can protect our nation the way none can. He is ignorant and his control is mediocre at best, but I know that under my guidance, Genosha will remain the strong nation that it is. Please, forgive him for his foolishness. He may have killed them, but his parents loved him and left Genosha to him under me. We must trust their majesties’ judgment. Know that I will get us through this,” Shaw projected over the crowd, immediately catching their attention.

Erik shook his head. He couldn’t do this anymore. Charles was watching him with what he could only believe was horror and pity. He finally understood. It took years of ignoring and protecting him, and Charles knew, and he was afraid. The whole kingdom knew, and he would never be able to be the leader that he should be. But Shaw . . . Regent Sebastian Shaw always knew what to say, what to do, how to make it right. He would be twice the king Erik could ever be. And Erik . . . Erik couldn’t stay. He couldn’t risk dropping another chandelier. He couldn’t face them, any of them, when a king-killer, someone who killed their very own parents, deserved death. Shaw was protecting him like he had always done, and Erik couldn’t keep hiding anymore.

While everyone else was focused on the former Regent, Charles was watching the new King. The metal slowed around him, and Charles thought if he could just slip through, he could – something. And then it started melting. Liquid gold, silver, bronze, iron, steel and tin dripped to cover the floor in a molten pool. A sharp cry from the guards betrayed that their swords, buttons and buckles were softening, falling and melding to the floor.

“Erik, let me help you. Please,” he whispered, drawing closer.

“Leave me alone!” Erik shouted, jerking his arm as he turned away. Liquid metal surged up, forming a sharp wave that slashed at Charles’ shins. The younger boy cried out, but ignored his new lacerations. That was it for Erik. “I’m sorry, Charles.” He fled.

In his wake for a good two miles on either side, the metal melted around him, fueled by his self-hatred and fear. Once useful, the alloys and elements were now shiny discs on the ground, many welded into the cracks of the stone or bricks that they landed on. From rings to axe-heads, if it was predominantly metal, it abandoned its post to take up occupancy on the ground, but Erik didn’t notice. He was getting as far away as possible, the only place on their island where he could imagine himself alone. Up the mountain, past the glen and well up into the forest before he finally could breathe.

 

  
  
“Charles! Are you alright?” Hank pushed through the crowd to kneel at his feet and examine the wounds.

“I’m fine. They aren’t deep; we have to go and bring him back.” Charles glanced back at Shaw, ascending the dais.

“Are you crazy,” Alex questioned. “He hurt you. What makes you think he won’t do it again?”

“Please, fellow Genoshans, remain calm,” Shaw said, raising his arms.

“We won’t trade with a kingdom when its King is out of control,” one of the dignitaries shouted. Charles frowned at the man, who looked a little like a toothy Viking. Creed, he had heard someone call him.

“He killed good King Jakob and dear Queen Edie. We cannot allow him to go free!”

“We need a king who is a proven leader. Someone who will put Genosha first!”

“King Sebastian Shaw! A proven leader!”

Charles snorted. A proven manipulator perhaps. Since their majesties’ had passed, the rich had become richer, the poor, poorer. Trade increased when it lined the pockets of certain courtiers and ignored countries that would have provided a mutually beneficial, if a lesser military, ally. The few times he had spoken to Erik about it. .  . Well, Erik had less patience than usual for Charles when he dared to say anything against his beloved mentor.

“King Sebastian! King Sebastian,” a significant portion of the crowd began to chant. If many people appeared uncomfortable, they didn’t dare to speak up.

“Please, please, my friends. If you would have me, it would be my honour to serve you as our good King Jakob and sainted Queen Edie did. Your well-being has always been my compass. Who am I to refuse those I have served so faithfully? I never dreamed of this, but I will step forward if that is what you will,” he boomed, bowing ever so slightly to the crowd.

It turned Charles’ stomach. What was worse was what followed.

“But what about King Erik? We can’t let him go on like this!”

“Can our metal workers even fix this?”

“My friends, while I would celebrate a gift such as his majesty’s if it were serving the will of our country, he clearly is too dangerous to condone.”

“Then he must die,” Creed shouted, grinning wickedly.

The courtiers whispered and rustled about. Charles could tell they were not pleased with the idea, but the melted candelabras, weapons and jewelry were swaying them in a way that Shaw’s heavy silence only fueled. Finally, he said, “While that is not my wish, if he will not come peacefully to restore what he ruined and leave our peaceful country in peace, then that is what must be done. We shall gather a team to escort him back, and then away.”

“Come on. We have to find him first.” Charles turned and slipped out of the ballroom, barely able to recall when he and Erik had raced down its length. The memories whispered at something more, something more exciting, but he pushed them away.

 The trio watched him in shock until his blue tunic turned the corner before they raced after him.

“You're insane! You saw what he did in there, Charles!” Sean shrieked, not caring now that they were out of earshot. Charles winced as his gift edged his voice. The commoners in the village were not exactly open about their gifts, but neither did they actively hide them, especially not if it meant the difference between dinner and starving. When Sean screeched into the water, fish would swim into the opposite direction, even if that meant into nets.

“He’s been afraid for a long time. Alex, look me in the eye and tell me that you don’t understand.” Charles had met Alex when he found him hiding after burning a hole in his father’s forge, but Charles’ hadn’t run away. Alex didn’t particularly like King Erik or how he had treated Charles – Hank said he was why Charles was sometimes sad when he thought no one was looking -- but Alex couldn’t argue with that logic.

“Maybe it is better if you all stay anyway. There is no telling what Shaw will try to do now. Just keep an eye on him and make sure that the people in the village are okay." Charles was throwing several things in a satchel as he spoke, finally pulling on his cloak. The broach was flattened on the floor, but he had so often forgotten it, that one of the maids who was fond of him had sewn a button on instead anyway.

"He could seriously hurt you, Charles. How are you going to stop him," Hank asked with a frown.

Charles flashed his most charming smile. "I'll talk to him."

Alex snorted and muttered, "Because that's worked so well the last ten years."

Charles didn't deem that comment worthy of a retort. He pulled the hood over his hair and shouldered his bag. "There is good in him, and I'll prove it. Keep Genosha safe. Erik and I will be back by morning." Charles snuck out of his room, leaving his friends behind. It was an island, there weren't too many places to go to get away from people.

Except up.


	8. Chapter 8

Erik did not pay attention to where he was going; his only thought was to get away. Get away from anyone he could harm. He did not slow until the metal of the castle and the village was a distant hum, the only immediate melody came from the ores in the earth and the metal that was clinging to his skin. Night was upon him, and he just needed some time to think. Erik threw himself on the ground beneath a great fir tree and curled up so his chin was tucked on his knees.

It wasn’t fair. He had lost everything, because of his curse. His parents were dead because of him; he had never dared to make friends and lost Charles in the process. He had lost everything that normal teenagers, even normal princes got to do. If he had his mother and father, maybe it would be worth it. If he were able to do his duty and serve the kingdom, it would at least be tolerable. But now . . . 

Erik’s eyes examined the mountainside. All around him were evergreen trees, rocks, sticks, and just below the crust of the earth was a deposit of iron. It was a steep incline, but that did not prevent the animals from creating a life here. He could see tracks of mountain lions, deer, wolves, and smaller ones like foxes, rabbits and squirrels. If he had to, he could create a life up here. Erik’s gaze drifted to the sharp cliffside. From his mediocre shelter, he could not tell how far the drop was, but was it enough to make it end? He just wanted it all to stop. He was worthless, stupid, selfish, and a monster. He hurt people every time he turned around. Shaw would rule the kingdom rightly; Charles would live a full life with all of his new friends. Maybe he would fall in love. Get married. And Erik could never be part of it.

Weak.

He was so weak that he couldn’t even control his curse. The image of Charles’ injured leg flashed in his mind. He couldn’t even keep himself from hurting Charles. The crushing self-hatred fought against his survival instincts that sent him running in the first place. Erik fell asleep with an aching heart, unable to steel himself to take the only option he could imagine.

 

 

“Comrade.”

Erik jerked away, feeling a sharp poke to his ribs. His lanky limbs seemed to tangle in one another and his cloak; instead of leaping to his feet, the young prince fell over with a grunt. A deep voice chuckled, and Erik looked from the pair of black boots up black trousers and tunic to a red face. Something sharp jabbed at him again, and he jumped back from the long tail and its arrowhead end.

“You startle easy for a prince,” the man scoffed, and a snicker brought Erik’s attention to a short and slender man which thick black hair.

“I-how do you know who I am,” Erik asked, trying to regain some dignity by standing with grace.

The shorter man snorted.

“My comrade is correct. Who else would wear such a get-up? Comrade, I do not wear purple, and my _skin_ is red.”

Erik opened his mouth and closed it several times. “If you know who I am, then you better get away. I’m dangerous!”

This time they both laughed outright. “No more so than we are.” With a puff of smoke, the red fellow disappeared only to reappear at Erik’s back with a knife to his throat. After a moment dedicated to shock, the blade flew from his hand, tumbling over the cliff and out of sight. The man disappeared and reappeared again a moment later in front of Erik with the blade in hand. “Here is the truth of the matter, boy; everyone is dangerous.”

“More harm is done by the un-gifted everyday than the gifted,” the smaller man said quietly. “Each man uses the tools that he has, and if he wishes to cause harm, he will.”

“Most people don’t kill others on accident,” Erik argued stubbornly.

“True. He is a monster, Janos. Killing people on accident. Imagine!”

Erik scowled at the mocking in the transporter’s voice.

“Is it worse from a man to kill with intention or unintentionally,” asked Janos, form still but anticipatory like the calm before a storm.

“I will not debate philosophy without liquor; you know this,” the transporter stated in his heavy accent. “Come, boy, no sense in you spending the day under this tree.”

“I’m not going with you. I don’t even know who you are,” Erik exclaimed.

“So dangerous that he is afraid of going with strangers.”

“He is Azazel, and you don’t know who you are. You can come with us until you decide.”

Azazel rolled his eyes at Janos, but held out his hand anyway. Erik hesitated only a moment, before putting his hand and his trust in the stranger’s.

 

 

At first, following Erik wasn’t difficult. The trail of melted metal couldn’t have been more obvious, but slowly the amount that Erik could affect was diminished. Charles was reduced to staring at the ground, hoping for some sign. He had spent every day of his life reading in the castle; a good many days roaming the village with Sean, Alex and Darwin, but he had never spent much time in the forest. He had had no one to teach him woodcraft. King Jakob had known a little and had taken Erik on walks when they were both small, but Charles had been deemed a little too lacking in stamina and had stayed home to pout instead. It put him at a greater disadvantage now. With night falling fast, Charles was losing hope of finding his friend before morning. If he just kept walking in the dark, he could break a leg or even just wander directly back to town. He couldn’t suppress his sigh as he looked around for a decent place to camp, hopefully near some water. He knew there was a stream back here somewhere that was fed from a spring. He wasn’t entirely sure how he knew, but the knowledge was there. 

Movement in the brush made him jump back. A growl brought to mind wolves and large cats, and Charles wasn’t a coward, but neither did he have anything to scare them off. The wolves and cats might run, shy as they were, when they saw him, but if they were hungry and saw him as an option . . . Well, it wouldn’t be pretty, but he remembered reading somewhere that fire in particular was good at frightening away the wildlife. Scrambling for his pack, Charles pulled out some flint and struggled to light the nearest likely looking branch.

“Come on. Come on,” he muttered, the sounds getting closer. He fumbled the flint and dropped the tinder box entirely.

“Going to poke me in the eye,” a gruff voice asked, and Charles looked up to see a burly man emerge from the underbrush. He was about a half of a foot taller than Charles and twice as wide. Charles was no delicate flower, muscled from running with the boys, learning just about every trade that the villagers would allow, but this man was built like a bear.

“No. I thought you were an animal,” he confessed, dropping the stick casually.

The man chuckled. “Not the first time someone’s made that mistake.”

His rough trousers and how comfortable he seemed gave Charles an idea. “You know these woods?”

“Boy, these are _my_ woods. What do you think?”

“I think you are going to help me find Prince Erik, Mr. . . .”

The man raised his eyebrows. “Logan. Just Logan. And why would I do that?”

“Because if I get lost and die in the woods, you will feel awfully guilty,” Charles suggested, picking up the tinder box and putting it away.

“And why would I feel guilty? I didn’t tell stupid boys to wander around looking for trouble. You aren’t my responsibility,” he retorted, but Charles could hear the hint of softness underneath the rough exterior. He decided to amp up the power.

Charles widened his eyes and filled his face with pleading. “Please, Logan. My best friend in the whole world is out here somewhere alone and hurt. He’s afraid and believes all the wrong things. You could help me bring Erik back for the good of Genosha, but you could also do it because it would mean a lot to me. He needs me, and I need your help.”

Logan took one look at the sweet, young face and his ridiculously bright blue eyes and knew that it was over. “Damn it all to hell. Fine, but we can’t go anywhere tonight. He’s probably not moving in the dark anyway. Come on, you might as well get a decent night’s sleep.” With a hand on the boy’s shoulder, Logan guided him a little ways to a lean-to and a well-used fire pit.

“You hungry?” Charles shook his head. “Good. Go on then.”

Charles examined the small lean-to which would definitely fit a man of Logan’s size and would be roomy enough for him, but would not accommodate both of them. “I’m kicking you out of your bed?”

“Would you rather sleep on the tree roots? Get in. Can’t have a little thing like you catch a chill.”

Charles rolled his eyes, but decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. The bedding was nothing more than herbs and hay covered with a blanket, the thatching straw and sticks and leaves and rope. Still, it was warm, smelled good and comfortable. He snuggled deeper into the little nest and drew his cloak over him like a blanket. After all the excitement of the day, Charles fell asleep quickly, leaving Logan to marvel at how trusting and innocent the lad really was. Any thought of just leaving him be so he would go back to the village evaporated. The child would end up getting himself lost and if the cats didn’t get him, he would probably tumble off the side of the mountain. Logan would help him find his friend and get him out and back where he belonged.

Out of his forest.


End file.
